


Snapshot

by velannacousland



Series: Help Me Love, Don't Fail Me Now [2]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alcohol, Language, M/M, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-01
Updated: 2013-11-01
Packaged: 2017-12-31 03:52:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1026930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/velannacousland/pseuds/velannacousland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You take after your mom, whether you like it or not</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snapshot

**Author's Note:**

> Ah my god guys, this is turning into a series. I have no idea where it's going to lead to, though. My bad. Also, this is my first time writing second person POV but this story refused to be written otherwise X(

_Jim, let me tell you something. C'mere, no not there, here. Goddamnit! Winona, let me talk to the kid, I WILL call you back. Yes, yes 'Nona, he's okay, now let me fucking talk to him! Okay, Jim, listen. You may look like George's carbon copy, but you take after your mother. You may look like a Kirk but you are a Davis through and through, and let me te--Jim, quit crying-- Listen, you haven't done anything that your mother and I wouldn't have done in your position. Only, your mother probably would have put Frank in that damn car. Next time, when you want to piss someone off, don't put yourself in danger, put them in danger._

"--you would think that our captain would know better than to drive a fucking spaceship drunk---"

Picking which hurts the most, the hangover or Bones's constant bitching, is really hard when you first wake up. Those and the fact that Bones had to go and turn the lights on full, without a single regard to your comfort.

"Bones." You slur out, mouth dry, blond hair a matted mess, and a headache the size of Talax, or Vulcan, or Earth, or however that saying goes.

"And I'm serious Jim, I'm not giving you a fuckin' hypo for your hangover. So you'll just have to suffer, no matter how much you whine and complain." You roll over to face the angry wrath of Bones, who's in your kitchenette, facing away from you and bent over the stove. The smell of bacon is an unlikely welcoming site, because anyone this hungover is more likely to be ralphing in the toilet, not eating bacon. So instead of addressing the issue that has Bones angry, instead you ask...

"Are you cooking?!" 

"Congratulations, Jim, you didn't kill all of your braincells last night! I'm making you eggs and bacon."

"Why?"

"Because, damnit, you need something for your hangover, and since I'm serious about the hypo, I might as well cook you something to help you. Just in case you have to work this morning. Which you do."

The gesture makes you smile. "Careful, Bones, I might think you actually care about me." That earns you an eyeroll from the ever predictable Leonard H. McCoy.

"Don't go spewing that shit everywhere. It's bad enough that Mr. 'I Do Not Think We Are On Earth Anymore' thinks we're dating." And with that statement, you feel a slight pang, but you can cover it up with a blinding smile.

"Aww Bones!" You say dramatically, with your hands folded on your chest above your heart. "You wound me. If you didn't care so much, why am I in my pajamas? My favorite, I might add, instead of the clothes I know I passed out in?"

Bones's eyes dart around for a second, before narrowing on you, highlighting the evil glare he is currently sending your way. "The fact that you remember anything last night after drinking whatever toxin Scotty brewed up is astounding."

_You have reached the mailbox of Winona Kirk, Senior Science Officer aboard the USS Ireland. Please state your business along with your name and COMM number and I will get back at you whenever I can._

_Mom, Mom, oh my god, Mom, I just realized it's after midnight. I probably woke you. Well, I don't know if it's actually midnight where you are, but it could be night shift. Whatever. I can't think. Anyway, I wanted to call and tell you that I met Christoper Pike. Said he knew you. He was a big giant asshole. Aaaanyhow, I just wanted to tell you he talked to me and Mom, I think I'm fucking joining Starfleet!_

"Of course I remember!" You protest a little too loudly for your still pounding head. This causes you to fall back onto your bed, with your blue satin pajamas lessening your discomfort a bit. (You got the pajamas after a successful bet with Gaila. They were way too pricey for Starfleet cadets but you saw it at a store and declared you had to have them. Gaila, flipping her red curls behind her shoulder, laughed and said she said "You know that Bajoran guy in your survival class? I bet that you can't get him to sleep with you. If you do, I'll buy you those pajamas.)

(He was known for being ice cold, igniting rumors that he was half Bajoran and half Vulcan.)

(You found out that he was _so so_ not half Vulcan. And you got the blue satin pajamas. That was one of the best fucking weekends _ever_ )

Bones just rolls his eyes in response and turns back to the stove. Using a little too much force, he throws your eggs onto a plate, yolk breaking and running all over your bacon. He doesn't fix this, because he knows that's the way you like it. He points a finger at you and then jabs it towards the round table that is in between your bed and the kitchenette. 

"Eat!" He orders, which doesn't really intimidate you, because he's in nothing but his long red flannel pajamas, and you find it way too hot to be intimidated. Yeah, you may just be a little hung up on Bones. How could you not? The doctor is buff and built, no matter how much he bitches about how out of shape he is. 

You obey his orders, shuffling towards the table. You sit down and slowly start to eat your breakfast. It feels nice that Bones cares enough to make you breakfast. If you had the chance, you could definitely live with this every day of your life. If only the doctor would agree.

_Well, sweetie, we met at school. We were in Geometry and---Sammy honey, for the last time, do your homework or else-- ah...we were in Geometry and we were paired up for some assignment. He came over to my house everyday to work on the assignment because it was closer to school than his house was. Well, he was a very quiet kid in school, you know, only had about 3 friends and never spoke up in class but was really super smart. That's how we met, but we started dating right before fall break. He said he would be so bored and how he wanted someone to hang out with but no one really asked. So I told him to put up or shut up. He still wouldn't say anything so I grabbed him and kissed him, and said, 'kay the awkward stage is over. You can ask me now.'_

_That was...bold, Mom._

_Yeah, it probably didn't help that we were in the middle of the cafeteria during lunch._

The day definitely sucked. 

Nothing bad happened, but Bones was serious about the "I'm not giving you a hypo" threat. Piloting the Enterprise isn't the worst thing you can do, but it's infinitely worse when you've got a throbbing headache. You didn't get to see Bones throughout your shift, so when your shift is over you walk to Medbay dejectedly. Maybe Bones was right and you shouldn't have gotten fucked up with Scotty, Uhura, and Chekov the night before. 

(You were just trying to help them. Scotty had stopped talking to everybody since Caprica, Uhura had just broken up with Spock and Chekov was in the middle of an identity crisis.)

But you won't let Bones know, because then he would really win and Jim "I always win" Kirk Always. Wins.

Christine Chapel doesn't say anything, not even looking up from the patient she's working on, and just points to the CMO's office. You wave a half-hearted thanks and ring the doorbell to the office. You hear what you think might be a gruff "In!", so you open the door and walk in. Bones is at his desk updating medical records, and jumps when the door opens.

"Damnit Jim haven't you heard of a doorbell?!" He bellows out, eyes wide.

"I DID ring the doorbell, and you said in!" You state

"No I didn't! You're going to give me a heart attack. You scared the crap out of me!" He retorts, voice still loud. "What do you want?"

"A hypo for a headache." You answer, and Bones's eyes narrows. 

"I told you no hypo!" 

"You told me no hypo _before_ my shift. You didn't say anything about _after_ my shift." You say, smiling at your logic. You sit on a chair on the other side of the desk from Bones, who huffs, opens the top drawer (reaches behind his bottle of Southern Comfort) and grabs a hypo. He tosses it to you, and after you catch it you note that the hypo contains the right medication and the right dosage for you.

See, Bones cares after all.

"You know," you say after injecting yourself with the hypo, relief sweeping through you (and now you can think more clearly) "People say I take after my dad. But really I'm like my mom."

"Okay?" Bones says slowly, confusion etched into his features.

"Yeah." And with the relief, comes the plan. "I don't know if it's genetic or because I didn't know my dad, but I act just like my mom."

"Right." Bones answers the same way he did before. You prop one leg up on his desk

"Sam apparently is the one who most acted like dad. Yeah, in high school he was that quiet brainy kid. Real shy. My mom was the one who asked him out. She kissed him right in the middle of the cafeteria at school. My mom's probably got more balls than I do. You wanna know how they got engaged?"

"Jim, is there a point to this? I'm a doctor, I'm busy."

"I'm getting there!" You say impatiently, waving your hand in irritation. He is totally not following the script that you've had planned out since you've discovered your attraction "Anyway, Jimpop always told me that alcohol is a good luck charm for the Davis family. Grandma likes to laugh and say the only way he would go to the alter is if he was shitfaced. Mom was the one who proposed to my dad. They were at some party and my mom was fucked up on some Tellurian booze and she started puking all over herself. So my dad had to take her home and he cleaned her up."

"The apple _really_ doesn't fall too far from the tree."

"Yeah man, and while he's helping her get puke off of her dress, she goes _You must really love me, I'm so like, puked. You should marry me_ and he says _Yeah, sure, let's just get you cleaned up_ and he got her to the bed and she passed out."

By this time, Bones has turned away from his computer and faced you, leaning back in his chair with his hands folded in his lap.

"So the next day she goes and buys a set of wedding rings and goes _Why wait?_ and they went to the courthouse that day. They were nineteen. I tell ya, my mom had balls."

"That was such a fascinating story." Bones states plainly. 

Here comes the good part, you think.

"Hey Bones," you say, crossing your leg over the one that's propped on the desk. "Can you pour me a shot?"

Bones raises his eyebrows, but nonetheless grabs two shot glasses and his bottle of Southern Comfort, and pours both of you a shot. You take your feet off of his table just to grab your glass, and put your feet back up. You look at him, hold the shot glass up, and say

"So, how 'bout it Bones? Wanna date?" It's not the most romantic, and it's kind of corny, but it gets the point across. 

The end of the story is: James Tiberius Kirk _always_ fucking wins.


End file.
